


Have you read this?

by MiriRainbowitz



Series: those were our wives (who decided to fuck) [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5401745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriRainbowitz/pseuds/MiriRainbowitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander gets an email from someone named James Reynolds at about 11 pm, but that's not the end of his day – it's just the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. stay true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks goes to El for being a horrible enabler
> 
> This chapter is set right before "An amorous connection"

Alexander has always been a fast reader, so it takes him barely two minutes to look over the screenshots of the texts in James Reynolds’s second email.

Well. It takes him barely two minutes to look over the screenshots the first time.

He looks over them again probably five or six more times, half of his brain searching for _any_ way to deny the obvious conclusion that the other half of his brain has come to, before he’s out of his desk in a flash. Maria, whoever the hell she is, usually says that “Hamilton” comes over at around 10 pm, so if he goes home and… he can’t bring himself to finish that thought.

The only people who are still in the White House are the security. Alexander is pretty much the only person who stays at work past 9 pm, so there’s only the one security guard at the exit who asks him where he’s going in such a rush.

“Home,” Alexander replies. He wants to talk to this guy – Frank, according to the nametag – about what’s just happened, about the storm of emotions that are building up into a hurricane inside him, but he just smiles tightly as Frank says goodnight and pages someone in the motor pool to take Secretary Hamilton home.

He doesn’t talk as he gets into the car that’s waiting, nor does he talk on the ride home. His thoughts, for the first time in his life, are going too fast to articulate as anything other than the verbal equivalent of a keysmash, so he takes Burr’s advice and smiles instead of talking.

The ride feels like it takes centuries, but it’s about midnight when the car pulls up in front of the Hamilton house, and when he sees that Eliza’s minivan is there, but his own Accord is gone, the hurricane grows in speed and magnitude.

 _She could just be running an errand_ , some part of him protests (weakly).

 _At midnight, with your car? Yeah right_ , another part responds, and Alexander mumbles a thank you and a goodnight to the driver as he stumbles out of the car and walks up to the door. He tries to be quiet, but the door is loud, and of all his children, Angie, much like her mother, is a very light sleeper, so as he’s taking off his shoes and coat, he hears quiet footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Daddy?” Angie asks. “I thought you weren’t coming home till tomorrow.”

“I wanted to surprise your mother,” Alexander whispers in reply. “Go back to sleep, baby, let’s not wake anyone else up.”

“Okay,” Angie replies, then trudges back up the stairs, rubbing her eyes and yawning as Alexander follows her. He watches as she goes into her room and tucks herself back into bed before Alexander closes her bedroom door.

His and Eliza’s room is at the end of the hallway, so Alexander decides to check in on the rest of his kids. Philip is fast asleep in his own room, as is little John in the nursery, while Alex Junior and James are curled up together in bed. The sight brings a smile to Alexander’s face.

He spends a while looking at his peacefully sleeping children, and he tries to tell himself that he’s taking time to take in the wonderful children he’s had with Eliza, but he knows that he’s just delaying. There’s a part of him that knows what he’s going to find in his bedroom, considering Eliza hadn’t also come downstairs when he opened the door, but he can’t help but let out a gasp of shock and dismay as he opens the bedroom door to the sight of an empty bed.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there as the hurricane turns into a supernova, accompanied by a bright, loud roaring in his ears, but suddenly his knees give out and he falls onto the floor. He’s not entirely sure how he makes it to his reading chair, over in the corner by the wardrobe, but he does, and a fresh wave of feeling rises inside him. This chair had originally belonged to Eliza’s father, who’d given it to Eliza when she was a teenager, and once he’d started dating Eliza, Alexander would sit in it while Eliza would curl up in his lap.

It’s a harsh contrast – the warmth and togetherness of the memories that went with this chair, versus the cold and lonely room, with its darkness and its pristine, un-slept-in bed.

Alexander stares at the bed until his vision swims, then pulls out his phone and goes through the second email again. None of the texts that were sent indicate when Eliza should be coming home, but Alexander decides to stay awake until then. He _needs_ to know where Eliza is, what she’s doing, _how could she possibly do this to me to us to our kids_ –

He hears a whimper, and he hurries to John’s room, and John is fussing and his face is scrunched up and Alexander rushes to pick him up, to rock him in his arms and run a hand over the silky black hair on his little head. After a few minutes, John quiets down, and Alexander manages to place him back in his bed and get back to his own room before he breaks down sobbing because _Eliza should have been the one who comforted John_. _She’s_ the one who’s a light sleeper, who would have heard her youngest son fussing and gone to sooth him, but she’s – oh, God, she’s with Maria now, and _Alexander_ is the one who had to take care of their baby son.

He cries, cries like he hasn’t since his mother died, because it’s the only way to keep himself exploding into a rage with all the emotions he feels. He cries for his and Eliza’s relationship, for their kids, for their family and friends, for this impossible, unthinkable, unimaginable situation that they’re in, and he has to find an blanket to cry into, because he’s never been a quiet crier and he doesn’t want to wake up Angie again.

The tears finally subside sometime around 1, according to the clock on the bedstand, and now all Alexander can feel is a cold rage, and his mind gets to work. He needs to consider how to deal with this – if he can somehow discredit James Reynolds without dragging Eliza’s name through the mud, if he can figure out a way to make it all seem fake, but most importantly – if he even wants to put in the effort.

It’s heartbreaking, he realizes. He loves Eliza, enough to marry her, enough to build a life and a family with her, and she’s gone and destroyed that, this relationship that he’s devoted over a decade of his life to. It’s like the universe has suddenly tilted and thrown him off balance, like he’s standing on ground that was stable a second ago, but is now having an earthquake. Did she ever even love him at all?

 _Angelica_ , he thinks. What would she think of this? She, who had said that if he ever broke Eliza’s heart, they wouldn’t find his body? She wasn’t the only person who’d given him the shovel talk, but Eliza – there was no one in his life who could give _her_ that talk. Was that why she’d thought she could get away with breaking his heart?

He can’t help but think of the comments that some biphobic people had hurled at him, how his bisexuality made him a slut and more likely to cheat on Eliza than if he were straight, and oh, how wrong they were. Sure, he’d been tempted, but he’d never _once_ taken any opportunity to stray from her, but she’d – had she had any regrets, when she jumped into bed with Maria? Had she regretted it when he would come home and they’d kiss and ask each other how they’d been since the last time they saw each other? How long had Eliza been hiding this?

Because he’s awake, he hears the back door – quieter than the front, but not silent – open. A glance at the clock showed him that he’d been lost in his thoughts for a few hours – it was now around 4 am. He hears Eliza take off her coat and shoes and come up the stairs, and he goes from numb to coldly furious when she doesn’t even stop to check in on the kids. For God’s sake, John had been having a nightmare, and she hadn’t even been around to soothe him!

He watches silently as Eliza walks into the room, giving off an air of satisfaction, and _he_ used to be the only person who could give her that look. Had she had that look the first time she had sex with Maria?

She lays down on the bed with a smile, still in the clothes she would probably wear during the day, where she pretended that nothing was wrong, that she hadn’t just slept with another woman the night before, and Alexander says, “Good morning, Eliza.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For future reference: Most of my current knowledge of how politics/the White House works comes from watching all of 8 episodes of The West Wing. That's why Alexander works inside the White House, even though a commenter informed me that this would not be the case irl. At this point, changing this would require more work on my part than I'm willing to put in, so don't yell at me for having Alexander working in the White House.


	2. The place to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set right after "An amorous connection"

Alexander is reaching for his car keys when the thought _Eliza took_ my _car to go see Maria_ hits him like a freight train, and he actually physically freezes. _Burr would probably get a kick out of this_ , he thinks. _The unstoppable Alexander Hamilton, for once, not in motion._

Alexander fumbles for his phone, unlocking it and tapping the Uber app. He needs to go talk to someone – who can he talk to? Lafayette is back in France, he shouldn’t trouble the President with his wife’s infidelity, and all of his other friends are out of town. Wait – John just got back to town yesterday. _Perfect timing_ , Alexander thinks sarcastically. 

He quickly types in John’s address. The app indicates that the car is still about 10 minutes away, but Alexander can’t stay inside any longer, so he quietly slips out the back door and goes to the front steps.

He doesn’t sit there for long before the car – a small sedan, and it’s too dark to tell what color – pulls up, and he hurries to get in. “Alexander Hamilton?” asks the driver, a young black man before taking a long drink from the coffee cup. 

“Yep,” Alexander replies, and wow, his voice actually sounds normal. That’s a bit of a shock. 

Alexander buckles his seatbelt and they’re off. Normally, the silence in the car would be stifling, and Alexander would try to fill it with words, but he’s just too fragile, too raw, to find any words whatsoever that wouldn’t flay him like whips. The driver, thankfully, seems perfectly content to maintain the silence, although that’s probably due less to heartbreak than to the early hour.

All in all, the silence is comforting and soothing, and it isn’t until they’re a few minutes away that Alexander realizes that John is probably asleep now, but he hesitates to pull out his phone. A text won’t wake John up, and he doesn’t want to talk yet, so he figures knocking on the door until John lets him in will do just fine.

When the driver pulls up to John’s house, Alexander thanks him and gets out of the car, then walks up to the door and knocks on it. As he’s knocking, he hears the car drive off.

It takes about a minute for the door to open, and then John is standing there, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a sleepy/murderous expression. “Alex, what the fuck? It’s not even 5,” he says, his voice croaky with lack of sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Alexander says, and his voice – well, it’s a bit croaky too, but for vastly different reasons. “But there’s nowhere else I can go. Not with – you’re the only person I can talk to.”

That seems to wake up John a bit – his eyes focus on Alexander’s face, on the lingering redness in his eyes. “Come in,” John says through a sigh, standing back so Alexander can do so. “What’s up?”

“You might want to caffeinate first,” Alexander replies. _And I’m not quite ready to talk, either._

As John trudges off to the kitchen, Alexander toes off his shoes and hangs up his coat, then heads to the kitchen. John is staring at the coffeemaker that he and Eliza had bought John as a housewarming gift, and a pang goes through Alexander at the sight. The housewarming party had been a few months ago – had it been before the affair started? Or had Eliza already been involved with Maria by that point?

As John waits for the coffee, Alexander paces and fidgets, still trying to figure out a way to put the emotions and events of the last – God, it’s only been _six hours_ since he’d gotten the email, but yesterday evening feels like it took place _days_ ago. He’s no closer to coming up with anything when John’s coffee is ready, even though he follow John into the living room.

John sits down, but Alex can’t. “You’re pacing like Darcy right before he proposed,” John says after about a minute of silence, and Alexander cracks a small smile. He could understand the appeal of watching soaking wet Colin Firth, but John’s love of the rest of the miniseries had mystified him when they were dating.

“It’s…” Alexander tries to get the words out, he really does, but they just aren’t coming. He sighs loudly, then unlocks his phone and brings up the email with the screencaps, then hands the phone to John. “Read the previous one too,” he says, and his voice cracks. 

Like him, John is a fast reader, but also like him, John is silent for longer than it takes to read the emails – he’s probably rereading them, just like Alexander had. Finally, he looks up, his expression showing curiosity and a bit of shock. “Alexander, did you…” he trails off, but the question is clear.

“I – never,” Alexander replies fiercely. “I’d never – cheat, you know that. Besides, if I wanted to, I’d just ask you.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but saying the words is a fresh, painful reminder of what Eliza’s done, and Alexander can feel the tears pricking at his eyes by the time he’s finished speaking.

John, apparently, can read him just as well as ever, because he gets up and hugs Alexander, and that’s when the tears break. Alexander isn’t actually even sure what happens after that – he’s vaguely aware of John moving both of them back to the couch – but by the time awareness returns, he’s lying on the couch, a blanket over him, and the sun is hurting his tear-sensitive eyes.

He looks around, but John isn’t in the room. He tries to call John, but all that comes out is a croak. He clears his throat, but then John walks into the room before he can say anything. He’s wearing clothes – a pair of tight jeans and a comfy-looking sweater – and carrying a mug, and he smiles when he sees Alexander.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d be up,” he says.

“Up?” Alexander asks, a sense of dread creeping over him.

“You – fell asleep,” John replies.

“What time is it?” Alexander asks hurriedly.

“10:30 ish,” John says. “Don’t get up – I called your office and told them you got a 24 hour bug.”

“But –” Alexander tries to protest, because he has so much _work_ to do, but John comes over and pushes him back down. 

“Your whole world basically just shattered, man,” he says. “You’re taking the day off, end of discussion.”

“Okay,” Alexander says, relaxing into the couch as John sits down at the opposite end. 

“Now, you said that you have nowhere else to go,” John says. “I assume you meant that you couldn’t think of anyone else to tell, but does this also apply to living arrangements?”

“I…” Alexander pauses. “I guess, yeah.” Truth be told, he hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but there was certainly no way he could stay in their house if Eliza was still there, and, well, the couch in his office was a bit too short for him to get a good night’s sleep. 

“Well, as it happens, I have a spare bedroom,” John says. “You could sleep here, if you want.” 

“I usually only spend the night at home once or twice a week,” Alexander replies. “But – yeah. I don’t – I don’t think I’ll be able to spend the night at – home.”

“Well, we’ll probably still have to get some clothes and stuff from your house to keep here,” John says. “We can do that today, if you want.”

Alexander shakes his head. Eliza will be home today, and he’s still got a few more days of clothes at work. “Monday,” he says. “Jefferson is going to be giving a speech,and God knows I can definitely afford to skip out on the boredom and spare everyone the headaches that will happen when I argue with him.”

John chuckles. “Good planning,” he replies, and Alexander smiles a bit. “I am _so_ glad you’re back,” he says. 

“Me too,” John replies. “Also, I went out and bought some chocolate chip ice cream, so if you want to eat your feelings, I got you covered.”

**Author's Note:**

> My parents are dicks, but unfortunately, they're dicks I'm completely financially dependent on. Recently, they said that they wouldn't refund me for "non-essential" expenses, like using Uber. In light of that, I've set up a gofundme campaign (the link to which can be found [here](http://dammmithardison.tumblr.com/post/138682719520/click-here-to-support-living-expenses-by-miri)). If you can donate, please do so. If you can't donate and have a tumblr, please help by reblogging.


End file.
